Heard as the Outcasts Hear
by OrangeGalen
Summary: They are so alike. Both had been called monsters. Both had shut themselves away from society. Both had the terrible burden of knowledge upon them. But now a chance meeting between the Snow Queen and the Opera Ghost will have vast changes on their futures that neither will expect. The Outcasts will never be the same again... [Future SnowGhost/IcePhantom]
1. Change of Scenery

**This is something that I had an idea of and just now finally got off my rear to write. And yes, this is a Phantom of the Opera and Frozen crossover. One day it just sort of clicked and I saw so many connections between the two that I just had to get writing. Originally this was planned just to be a one-shot, but once again, my overacting brain went into overdrive on this. So I hope you will all enjoy this story. **

**Just a quick note, updates will be far in-between so please bear with me. Thank you!**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera and Frozen. This disclaimer will now apply to all future chapters. **

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~"No one would listen.

No one but her

Heard as the outcasts hear."~

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_Paris: 1875_

He wandered aimlessly through the darkened tunnels in a drunken stupor. His normally quiet footfalls that only ghosts would hear now echoed loudly through the sewers as he stumbled around, clattering loose rocks and broken bottle pieces. This normally silent figure, which many would only hear the slightest whisper on the wind before he struck, was mumbling incoherent nothings in his wanderings. His rich tenor had dissolved into a growling mess of a voice, saying anything that came to what was left of his genius mind. He came around another bend and almost tripped on a rocky outcropping that he would have known was there if not for the bottle of whiskey he had a few hours ago.

He had nowhere to go; his usual prowling fields that were once his domain, playground, and kingdom were now unrecognizable to him, rebuilt and redone. _His_ opera house was now completely unknown to him, owned by newcomers into the field that he hadn't yet made demands of for his opera house. He hadn't even threatened them yet. He couldn't, or probably more likely in some part of his mind didn't want to, go back up there. He was becoming a tale that stagehands told to dancing girls to get a scare, never more any threat or fear of retaliation from the real thing. To their knowledge, he died four years ago in the fire that had consumed so much.

He couldn't go above ground and into the streets of Paris to give the pretext of trying to integrate into society, not even in disguise now, as he was a hunted criminal and a labeled madman by the populace. As much as the belief that he was dead was rampant and there was hardly any real evidence against him, he didn't want to run the risk of being spotted. Plus he never liked crowds at all, even before he became a wanted criminal. They reminded him too much of his time as the Devil's Child, the crowds jeering at him and the brutish cage master beating him until his back was a crisscross of scars. Years and years and years of scars inflicted on him, and none of them had disappeared. They probably never would.

He couldn't go back to his lair and home as he had spent the last four years there doing practically nothing. Every motivation that he had, every ambition was gone. Everything that had held an interest to him has been neglected. The place held too many memories of a… a previous life; one that was filled with unimaginable music and passion. Back when he had purpose, vision, and fire to work.

But that was all gone now. It left when _She_ left. He couldn't even think of her name. It was easier for him to refer to her like that. No less painful, but easier.

Continuing his journey to nowhere, the man staggered around a corner, his once clean cape now covered in grunge and dirt. The suit he was wearing hung loosely on his body when it used to be fitting, and now was tattered and about as clean as his hair was, which is to say, not at all. Grime covered his black hair, which used to be slicked back and combed, and was now a wild, tangled, mess.

His skin was a yellow pallor like parchment and had shrunk so his bones were almost visible through is now loose fitting clothes. The once white and form fitting, now dirt colored and loose, porcelain mask barely covered the right side of his face, hanging on from a few places. However it was his eyes that showed the most change from his previous state four years ago.

Eyes that were once alight with every emotion possible; anger, fear, love, passion, lust, disgust, determination, were now dead. _Dead_. The green eyes held no life in them, no sparkle, no flame, nothing. Just glazed over and sunken into his head. They were dead.

In fact one could say that this man was a walking corpse. It just hadn't reached the coffin yet because he had already been to the graveyard and back.

The loosely termed man gave a growl and tried to repress some memories. Memories that burned in his mind more than they had ever done before.

But it was hopeless. They will burn him until he died. Like the fire he caused four years ago.

_"No Raoul! No, not like this."_

_Not again. Don't think about that,_ the man thought as he stumbled around. One of his first coherent thoughts of the day. _Can't think about _Her_ voice. Can't think about Her. Don't think. Don't remember._

No use. It was already done.

_~"Angel or father, friend or phantom, who is it there, staring?"~_

_~"Have you forgotten your Angel?"~_

"NO!" The figure cried out and smashed the wall in rage; not feeling the pain in his hand, for the pain in his heart blocked it out. _I can never be an angel again. I am not even a phantom because phantoms have more life than me. _

He turned another corner and was confronted with a once magnificent room. It had been carved into the wall of an underground cavern and once housed some of the greatest art unknown to man. Music, paintings, sculptures, and other forms of skill were created here. The furniture was of the highest quality, with articulate designs and covered with gold leaf. Almost all made by the man, the rest altered to fit his needs.

They were all gone now. The gold had crumbled after years of abuse and neglect. Dust covered practically everything, sometimes deep enough that your boot could sink into it a few centimeters. Paper had been balled up and thrown off to the side of the room, paper that held magnificent music was now tossed away like the daily newspaper on the streets.

The man groaned and stumbled his way over to a chair, kicking over several stands and almost falling multiple times. He fell into it in an undignified manner and groaned again, clutching his head, fighting away the pounding and drumming that was going on in his head. He was too far away from the bottle on the table for him to reach and he didn't feel like he could get up. _In fact, the ground looks really comfortable…_

That was his last thought before his body followed his thoughts.

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He woke up sometime later to the sound of footsteps. His head didn't feel as bad as before, but his body was now sore from falling out of the chair. He tried to lift himself up, but his arms didn't support him and he fell back down to the ground. He gave a curse and the footsteps stopped a close distance away from him.

Suddenly he felt a pair of hands wrap around him and helped him lift himself up back into the chair. "I never thought you would be able to sink this low."

_I know that voice,_ he thought groggily. "Why are you here Antoinette?" He said, his voice raspy, hurting his vocal cords.

"I'm checking in on a friend." She said cordially as he found the chair again.

"I don't have any friends." He said as he rubbed his face. Suddenly, he realized that he didn't have his mask on and tried to find it, crawling along the ground until his gloved fingers found the familiar form. He desperately put it on but then found that he couldn't get up.

Once again he felt a pair of hands close around him, but he shook them off growling, "Don't touch me."

"Come now, you've always been too proud to accept help. Do you want to wallow in the dust?"

"Let me. I don't care anymore." He said, his voice dead, "I have nothing left to desire for."

"Don't start that again Erik."

The man suddenly hissed and tried to get up, but failed. Growling both at the woman and his own weakness, he said, "Don't say my name if you know what's good for you."

Antoinette had a self-satisfactory smirk on her face and said, "Even when you were at your greatest, you could never intimidate me _Erik_." She said, emphasizing his name once more, earning another growl from the man. "Now, you can't even pick yourself off the ground."

The man narrowed his eyes and said, "Watch me." He rolled over and braced his arms up against the ground. Breathing heavily, he pushed himself off of the ground, and then put his feet underneath himself. Then he straightened his legs and stood up shakily, looking like a strong gust of wind could blow him back on the ground. For a moment, he felt proud of himself, then remembered his own weakness and scowled.

"Well done." Antoinette said a few feet away from him.

"Don't patronize me woman." He said as he took a couple of shaky steps forward.

"Please, spare me the threats. You owe me that much."

"I think you paid those debts already." He said. _I know that you helped that rich fop with escaping my traps, and explaining my story to him, _and_ showing him how to get to my… home._

"I'm not here to discuss such things." She said.

"Then why are you here, because it seems to me that you have decided to come down here just to berate me for my choices. If that is all, then leave. Now."

"No, that is not my intention," Antoinette Giry said with a hint of disappointment, "I thought you would be more trusting of me."

"My trust is gone, destroyed. Everyone I've known has betrayed me at some point. And before you try and say otherwise," He said, stalling Giry's potential protest, "I know you led that _boy_ down here to stop me."

Giry's eyes narrowed. "You know perfectly well why I did so. We have gone over that before."

The man's strength swept away from him at that and he deflated, as much as his hallow, bony body would permit him to. "Yes." He whispered. "Yes we have." My everlasting source of shame and regret.

Giry was quiet for a moment and then said, "We have both done things that we regret, and for me, one of them is betraying your trust. But you must know that I never wanted any harm to come to you. I have cared for you and seen you grow up and think of you as fondly as I do Meg. I want what's best for you. Even if it's not what you want."

The man was silent. "Is that what you believe?" He asked quietly.

"Yes." She said without hesitation.

"Then you are wasting your time." The man said stronger. "How can you help a man who does not want to help himself?"

"By reminding him of who he used to be." The man looked sharply at her who returned the glare with a cool gaze.

"Look at yourself," she continued, "you're just skin and bones now, a shadow of the man who used to send fear into people at the mere mention of your name. A man who could glide silently through the maze of the opera and know everything that was happening. Now look at you." The man stayed silent. "You know I'm right."

"So? Perhaps this is what I'm supposed to do? I've always called myself a ghost, perhaps it is time I became one."

"Don't play the self pitying game with me Erik," she said, earning another hiss from him, "It won't work. You were once a strong man, capable of traversing the most inaccessible places. Now you can't even get into your own seat."

"If you're trying to wound my pride, there is nothing left of it." He said, and then tried to reach for a liquor bottle on the table.

"Nuh-uh!" Antoinette said sharply and smacked his hand with her cane. "No more drinking for you!" The man growled and tried to lunge forward, but fell short when a sudden wave of nausea came over him. He tried to hold it in, but failed. He turned his head and vomited over the floor, which Madame Giry stepped back from to avoid the splash. "I think that proves my point. When was the last meal you had? True meal." She said.

He tried to remember. _My endless nights blend together with my lightless days. I wander without purpose, without hope. Why would I worry about something as menial as food?_

"Too long apparently." Giry sighed and moved around the man to a sack that she had brought down with her. Reaching inside, she pulled out several bags and opened them up on the table, laying out several pieces of food, ranging from cheese to bread to a slightly warm piece of steak.

The man's stomach gave a large growl at the sight, and Antoinette gave a small smirk. "This is for you, but only if you promise that you will not succumb to self pity and take better care of yourself."

He was torn. On one hand, he really wanted to eat something as his famished stomach was reminding him that he only had alcohol for the past few days. But on the other, his pride was once again refusing to bend to someone else's.

His stomach won out. "Fine." He said, then reached for a piece of bread and bit into it, tearing off a chunk and eating it ravenously, his now awake stomach demanding attention.

"I guess that is as good as I'm going to get." Giry muttered to herself as she watched the man eat. She took a seat opposite of him from the table and sat in silence as the man ate.

A few minutes later, he finished a glass of water, the loaf of bread, and some of the cheese she brought and stopped, his stomach still adjusting to having food in it for such a while without. He looked at Antoinette in the eye and said, "Is there something else you want?" His voice almost back to his normal.

"Just one other thing. I would like you to get out of here."

"What do you mean?"

"No not like that," she said, stalling his outrage, "I mean get out and go someplace else. You need a change of scenery. You can't be stuck down here in the dark and cold forever." With that she gathered up the bag but left the food. Just as she was about to go, she turned and said, "The new opera season is starting up soon, in a few weeks. Normally I wouldn't recommend someone in your state to oversee them, but seeing that you are you, I'm betting you'll be your old self in that time."

The man just scoffed and sipped a glass of water. "That was a long time ago."

"Not as long as you think." That was all she said before she left his lair, her footsteps echoing until they disappeared in the darkness.

The man sat there in silence for a minute, then growled and drank some more water. _Who does she think she is? Coming down here for anybody else is a death warrant. She's too much of a nuisance…_ His thoughts trailed off as he lost his steam.

_Who am I trying to fool? How the great and mighty Phantom has been reduced to… this. Barely able to get out of his own chair, let alone threaten anybody. I'm nobody. Less than that. Born into emptiness and live in it as well. I don't deserve to be given a chance to live again. Have I really lived at all? Who would notice if I disappeared? Antoinette for a while, but she would move on. _Her? _She made her choice. Nobody._

He reached for the liquor bottle but stopped when his glove brushed the bottle. _Have I really fallen that far? Willing to drown myself in alcohol instead of music?_ _But how can I think about music when_ she _is the one that destroyed it for me? How can I think at all?_ He groaned and clutched his head. _How far have I fallen?_

He sat there in near darkness as the candles started to go out. _Being here isn't helping me at all. Perhaps Antoinette is right, I do need a change of scenery…_

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Meanwhile in a distant land something was about to unfold in almost a similar fashion.

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Arendelle: 1875

The room layout was relatively simple. At one end there was a door that was painted white with blue trimmings. At the other end was a triangular window that had crisscrossing supports. The walls were lined with shelves and bookcases that were filled to the brim with books, papers, and various other random things. Just in front of the window there was a desk. It was a large wooden desk that was about 9 feet wide and high enough for someone to write on comfortably.

Unfortunately another foot was added from paperwork that had piled up on the desk. And the room's sole occupant was desperately working through said piles.

Elsa, the queen of Arendelle, groaned as she leaned back in her desk, massaging her temples from the headache coming from the paperwork. _It's become a constant thing in my life now, _she thought, _wake up prepare for the headache, have headache for the day, then sleep with a headache and repeat._

She blinked her eyes to focus them, then again when they didn't. She groaned again, realizing that it wasn't even two-o-clock yet, and she hadn't even gotten through half of the first pile yet. She grabbed her pen from where she dropped it and put another piece of paper in front of her and began reading it, trying to make sense of the words on it. She stared at it for another five minutes before she realized that she had read the same sentence over and over again.

Refocusing once more, she tried again and signed it once she got to the bottom. I think _I understood what they wanted for this trade agreement. Or was it a property arrangement? Oh well,_ she thought giving up on it, _next one…_

She put another piece of paper in front of her before she doubled over in pain from the headache. Hissing in pain, Elsa rubbed her head and used a bit of her powers to try and cool down her head. It worked partially; the headache was still there, but the pain had lessened. _I guess that is good enough. _She tried again but didn't have the energy to continue. She looked up and saw that the clock had only moved seven minutes.

_I guess that a small nap won't hurt… _Her eyelids drooped and she felt herself dropping off into sleep…

"HEY ELSA!" Elsa's eyes shot wide open and a gust of cold wind and a spike of ice went up the window in surprise. "Oh sorry, didn't know you were sleeping."

Elsa's heart rate lessened and she saw her sister Anna standing in the doorway, grinning sheepishly at awaking her sister. "Anna, you know I'm supposed to be working now."

"Yes, but you were sleeping. That's not working." Anna pointed out. She frowned suddenly. "You usually make me work for that."

"Work for what?" Elsa asked, rubbing her face to try and make herself awake again.

"For me to be right. How much sleep have you gotten?" Anna asked.

"Umm… eight? Hours?" Elsa said hesitantly. Anna just raised her eyebrow at her. _She's getting good at that. She must have learned from me,_ Elsa thought. "In three days?" She added softly.

"THREE DAYS?!" Anna shouted, making Elsa wince in pain from the headache she had. "My gosh Elsa, how are you still working like this?"

"I have to." She said, "These won't do themselves." She gestured to her desk.

"You can have the ministers do them. You don't need to do them all yourself."

"But-"

"No. Use your queen powers and tell other people to do this." Anna said firmly. "You need your rest."

Elsa sighed and drooped her head. "I guess your right."

"Wow, a second time in two minutes. You must be really tired." Elsa glared at her and she just shrugged. "What? It's the truth."

Elsa just sighed and said, "Did you just come in here to pester me about my sleeping habits?"

"What? Oh! That! No, I was thinking about your work and how we never see each other as much as we did a year ago and I know Kristoff wouldn't mind a bit but I really wanted to ask you first before I asked him-"

"Anna. Please, get to the point." Elsa said, cutting her sister off of her rambling.

"Oh, well, I was thinking that you needed a change of scenery from all this paperwork and I heard that this really famous Opera house in Paris is getting ready for its next season and we could go there for a break!"

"Wait, Paris? Opera house? What brought this on?" Elsa asked, genuinely interested why her sister wanted to go.

"Well, I thought it would be a perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other and spend some time together."

"Anna, we've had three years now."

"Yea, but there was another thirteen before that!"

Immediately Anna wished that she hadn't said that. Elsa seemed to shrink and lose all energy from that sentence. Unconsciously, she started to wring her hands together in a nervous habit.

"Oh Elsa, I'm sorry." She went over and grasped her sister in a big hug. "I know what happened wasn't your fault. Don't go blaming yourself for that. We've been over this."

"I know. But it still hurts to know that I caused us so much pain."

"But we have each other now. Plus Olaf and Kristoff too. You have been queen for three years and I've known a guy for longer than a day now! Things are good." But then she pointed to the pile of paper. "Almost."

"I just can't get up and leave without notice Anna." Elsa tried.

"That's why we don't need to go for another two months. Their opening show starts then. That's plenty of time to get things in order."

Elsa had a small smirk on her face. "Sounds like you've planned this out quite a bit."

"Oh no, this is something I just heard about today." _There it is._ "Anyway, what do you say to that?" Anna leaned forward and eagerly awaited Elsa's reply.

Elsa sighed. "Anna…" She started, but the pleading look in Anna's eyes made Elsa rethink her answer. " …Fine."

"Really?" Anna said and when Elsa nodded she squealed in delight. "This is gonna' be great! You'll see!" Anna went waltzing out of Elsa's office humming a tune and closed the door behind her, leaving behind a mildly confused Elsa.

She blinked. "What did I just agree to?" She muttered and looked down at her desk again, debating with herself to try and get more work done.

_I give up,_ she thought and pushed herself away from her desk and turned around. She paused and saw the string of ice that went up the wall. She sighed again and then thought of her sister and concentrated on the ice. Using her powers, she quickly thawed the ice and made it disappear into blue sparkles that themselves faded out of existence.

_It feels so natural now. Just being able to use my powers so casually without fear of being discovered. It feels good._ She walked out the office and started down the hallways that had now become familiar in the three years since her coronation. _It also feels good to be around people, that the gates are open, and Arendelle is now open to all… excluding Weselton and the Southern Isles. Still haven't gotten any better relations with them, not that many want to anyway. _

Elsa found herself wandering back to her room, three days of minimal sleep finally catching up to her. After a minute, she opened her room's doors and made her way to her bed, which looked really inviting at that time.

She plopped down and was still thinking about that figurative mountain of paperwork on her desk. Just imagining it made her headache worse. But her body succumbed to sleep, but not without Elsa thinking one last thing.

_Perhaps Anna is right, I do need a change of scenery…_

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**Well what do you think? I have the chapters planned out, I just need to write them. **

**So if you would, Read, Review, Favorite, Follow. (R.R.F.F.)**

**-OrangeGalen**


	2. Travel Planning (Sorta)

**Hello again readers! Time for the first update of Heard as the Outcast Hear! Yay! I was hoping to get this chapter done on Monday, but I got a little sidetracked and, well, here we are. Anyway, moving on to the story!**

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**Note: This chapter was edited on 10/3/14.  
Changes: The gala date has gotten bumped back and is now planned at the beginning of November instead of the middle of the month.**

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Arendelle: August 1875

Elsa awoke late in the morning, which was unusual for her as it was Anna who normally did such a thing. The sun was already halfway up the sky, shining down on Arendelle and lighting up Elsa's room. When she usually woke up, it was still slightly dark with the sun barely lighting up the sky. All for work. Meetings, paperwork, and dealings with ambassadors were all part of her job and the sooner she started, the sooner she could be ready for the next batch. Just keep them coming until there is a pause.

And when she got one, that's when she and Anna spend time together: those few oddball days where there is nothing going on. No meetings, no dreaded paperwork, no problems to address. The kingdom seemed to run itself for that day and all Elsa had to do was sit back and watch. It was peaceful, or at least when Anna decided it would be. Other times Anna would somehow convince her to throw a winter party in Arendelle using her powers during especially warm days. Never to the extent of another "eternal winter", but inside the city limits, controlled and non-threatening and fun for all who want it.

Elsa had learned to control her powers in the three years since she had become queen. Now that people knew what she could do, she had no reason to hide it anymore. Every day in the palace courtyard, for an hour, Elsa would practice her magic. It usually involved making ice sculptures of Anna, Kristoff, and sometimes Olaf or Sven, or other times whoever just happened to be watching her that day. Other times it would be a bit more complicated when Elsa tried to test herself. Sometimes it would be creating other snow creatures like Marshmallow or Olaf or even human snow people, and others it would be to create a controlled blizzard inside the palace courtyard. There was only one time she lost control of the blizzard and that was when she got distracted by a snowball attack from Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf. It got cleaned up after the blizzard wound up on top of the three, burying them.

It still puzzled Elsa to this day how her people would be so accepting of her powers. After so long of trying to suppress and _conceal _them, all of that nonsense got thrown out the window in about a day. And they had all been happier about it. Anna and Elsa became reunited, Elsa stopped fearing herself and gained control of her powers, Arendelle's reputation had grown, and Anna has been going strong with Kristoff since the coronation. All of their problems had been fixed or resolved in such a short time, all because of one simple answer: love.

Elsa still harbored a little resentment towards her parents for not understanding the old troll's message about her powers, but she couldn't blame them. That night had been clouded in fear and terror, making everyone unable to think rationally. Elsa knew her parents had her best intentions in heart, even if it was convoluted the way they tried to work through it. And she forgave them for that, and she still loved them. Though it took her two years to do so and one major break down but she learned to accept, forgive, and move on.

Elsa's eyes opened and then closed momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window. She groaned and stretched; giving a small yawn that would have made anybody 'aww' if there was actually anybody around. Sitting up, she blinked groggily for a few seconds, and then rubbed her eyes, looking for the clock. She stopped halfway through another stretch as she saw the time. _9:34. 9:34! Oh no. I'm late for the merchants meeting and I haven't gotten any of the paperwork done on the Open Lot project. What am I going to do? I better hurry!_

Elsa wasn't the acrobat her sister is. However, they _are_ sisters and they do share some similar traits. For instance, the quick way they can both get dressed in about five minutes when it usually takes at least fifteen for a decent job if they are rushed. Elsa jumped out of the bed and rushed over to her closet, pulling the changing wall out. She tossed off her nightgown and was about to reach in the closet for something, but then reconsidered, knowing something faster.

She used her ice magic to start making a dress. It was much faster than putting something else on. She made a dark blue dress with a modest slit in the side, and an icy blue top that had slightly transparent sleeves and a low-buttoned collar. Finishing off the outfit, she made a pair of ice shoes with heels.

Elsa then moved to the wash bin and started working on her hair with a comb and water. Once she got the tangles out, she braided her hair and then wrapped it around her head and put on her crown.

Two years ago she traveled up the North Mountain again to visit her ice palace. To her surprise the snow golem she made, Marshmallow, was still there, albeit limping around from a leg wound. Even more surprising was that it-he had on her crown that she threw away. After a little reunion, Elsa made Marshmallow an ice crown and traded him for her old one. It was an old family heirloom after all. Marshmallow liked the new crown even better than the old one so they were both happy.

Finished, Elsa straightened her back and got into her 'queenly posture' before she exited her room. Walking down the hallways towards her office she passed a few servants who bowed and said 'your highness', to which Elsa smiled and nodded to them. She was a little confused when they smirked a little bit after she passed though.

She wasn't anymore when she reached her office. Or rather the doors leading to it. Elsa also had to smirk at the sight of it.

Currently the doors leading to her office, or more specifically the door handles, had a rope sloppily tied around them, tying them shut. There was also a sign that was hung up on the door that said: _"Elsa is forbidden from entering for this day. This applies to everybody else too". _

Elsa shook her head with amusement at Anna's antics, but she told herself that she needed to do the work no matter what. It was her job and the kingdom couldn't run itself for long. Plus that paperwork wouldn't do itself either.

She thought about trying to untie the rope, but then thought of a simpler approach. She used her powers to freeze the rope so cold that it shattered the moment she touched it. Ignoring the sign, she opened the door.

Suddenly she stumbled backwards in surprise as feathers exploded in her face. She careened backwards as the last of the feathers floated to the floor. She blinked in shock from the unexpected before she realized what happened. There was a pillow attached to a rope that was somehow set up to smack whoever tried to enter the room. Elsa held the look of surprise for a moment longer, then gently laughed as she saw what was written on the pillow: _"I told you, don't come in!"._

"Apparently Anna is more resourceful than I thought." Elsa said out loud, amused at her younger sister's antics. She ducked her head to avoid the now empty pillow and entered the room.

And once again she stopped in shock.

Her desk was cleared out. There was absolutely nothing on it. It was cleaned and polished, but there was nothing. No papers, no pens, no books; nothing. It was… refreshing, seeing the top of her desk for once. But then the obvious question arose in her mind with growing concern.

_Where is everything?_

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Anna must have heard her coming because once Elsa entered the dining hall. Anna was trying, and failing, to hide a smirk on her face by focusing on her food. Elsa knew she was faking it because she was actually using the proper utensils for her breakfast, instead of eating it with her hands.

Next to her was Kristoff, looking slightly out of place in such a grandiose environment, but right at home next to the redhead. In the three years since he came into their lives, Kristoff had proven himself to be reliable and a steady voice to Anna's unpredictability. If there was some sort of problem, his calm personality was usually able to resolve disputes… except for the Chocolate Incident. That could not be resolved by anyone. It's better if you don't ask. Suffice it to say it was the first time Anna got plastered to the celling with ice. Upside-down.

Anyway, Elsa walked into the dining hall, hands behind her back ignoring the looks she was getting, and carried herself over to her spot on the table and sat down. Her face was in a practiced expressionless position, betraying nothing of what she felt. It must have been unsettling because Kristoff's concerned expression grew into a worried and fearful one. Even Anna's face started to lose the smile on it.

Elsa kept up the façade for a minute and the entire hall was filled with silence and the occasional clink of Elsa's fork hitting the plate. "Soooooo…." She said, startling Anna and Kristoff. "I went into my office this morning…" She started, leaving the rest for Anna to finish.

Except she really didn't pick up on the cue. She just snorted and started to laugh, ignoring the semi-serious glare Elsa was giving her. Kristoff smiled nervously and pressed his back against the chair, just in case to avoid anything thrown at each other. It's happened.

"Anna, you know I need to do that paperwork. I'm the queen and it's my job." Elsa said calmly, trying to get through to Anna.

"Elsa, there's a little thing called 'delegation'. You should try it, well, obviously not now because I've already did that." Anna said with a smile.

"Wait, what? What did you do?" Elsa asked, wondering what her sister did.

"I organized the papers on your desk by subject then gave them to the correct departments and ministers so they can lighten your load." Anna said proudly. "Of course, you'll get some of those back after they're done so you can finish them up, but just not today. Today is for us!" She finished excitedly.

Elsa sighed. "Anna, some of those papers I needed to get _done _today."

"Don't worry about it. Kai is handling those ones right now. Relax!"

Elsa rubbed her forehead in weariness and a bit of stress. Although she had gotten a better night's sleep, or more accurately over half a day's worth of it, she still had a bit to recover from. Plus she could feel her headache coming back again.

Kristoff saw that this might be a good time to intervene. "Your Maje- uhh, Elsa," he stumbled a bit due to habit of addressing the ruling monarch of Arendelle combined with the fact that he was involved with her sister, plus the numerous times Elsa told him to address her by her name. Elsa looked up at the ice harvester, "It's no use to fret about it now; Anna has it taken care of and I think if you try to interfere, well, it would cause more problems than anything. Besides, why do you want to do work?" He finished, giving a lopsided smile.

Elsa had to smile back at him for his simple logic. _He's right; why do I want to work? And if Anna says that she's handled it, then I guess I should trust her on this. _She nodded in acceptance and looked at the two of them. "You're right Kristoff. I don't want to work." She focused on Anna next. "I've been pushing myself too hard lately. Thank you for getting me out of this Anna."

"Oh no, it wasn't that difficult. Pretty much everybody I talked to agreed to help you pretty much immediately. Believe it or not, you're a good queen Elsa and they see that."

Elsa's smile grew larger. "Thank you. So, what do you want to do today?"

Anna also smiled. "Well I was thinking we could start planning for our trip!"

"Wait," Kristoff put down his cup, "What trip?"

Elsa raised her eyebrow at Anna to say, _you didn't tell him?_

"Oh, err, I was thinking that we could all take a trip somewhere." Anna said.

Kristoff nodded, "Uh-huh. And where would this trip be?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about… Paris?" Anna winced a bit at that.

"And why Paris?"

"Because I thought it would be a good idea for us to go somewhere different for a change!"

"And by we, you were thinking of Elsa." Kristoff said, knowing how much Anna cared for her sister.

"Well yea, I mean, uhh, you know how hard she was working and, uhh, I didn't mean just for her, I also meant for us and well, uhh…" She paused and looked at Elsa. "A little help?" She muttered.

Elsa smirked, "Oh no, you're doing fine on your own." She said, semi-sarcastically.

Anna just stuck her tongue out at her in retaliation, earning a snicker from Elsa.

"And when were you going to ask me if I wanted to go?" Kristoff continued.

"Right now?" Anna said sheepishly.

Kristoff sighed in a way that was not unfamiliar to the way Elsa sighed a few moments ago. Anna had a way of making you do that often. "Just when is this trip?" He asked tiredly, rolling with it.

"It's in a few months when the new gala starts."

"Wait wait wait wait. Gala? You want to go to Paris to see a opera?" Kristoff said a little incredulous.

"Yes? Besides, we all like music, right? So what's the deal? We don't have an opera house anywhere near Arendelle, and this one in Paris is trying to gather as many people as it can."

Elsa broke in, "Where did you get all of this information from?"

"The last ship from France, you know, the one with all of the dignitaries two days ago?" Elsa nodded, remembering dealing with the ambassadors then. Not one of her finer moments. "Well, I was talking to some of the crew and they mentioned it and gave me a paper on it." Anna actually dug in her pocket and came out with a piece of paper. Unfolding it, she handed it over and both Elsa and Kristoff held it so they could look at it.

The paper advertised the re-opening of the opera house, the Opera Populaire, after four years of inactivity and a management change. Elsa frowned a bit as she read on. _Four years? That's a long time for a performance-based industry to be out of it. And what's this accident they mentioned, and why do they down play it?_

"So let me get this straight," Elsa said, "you want to travel all the way to Paris and stay for one gala, then come back?"

"Well that's what today is for! We can plan when, where, how, and why, well maybe not why, but all the others! We don't have to stay for just one performance, we can be there for a month or two!"

"A month!" Both Kristoff and Elsa exclaimed. The glanced at each other in mild surprise.

"How are we supposed to leave for a month?" Kristoff asked. "I don't think I could leave Sven or my business for that long, and if it took you that much effort to distribute Elsa's paperwork for a day, think about how much she'll have when she gets back."

Elsa shuddered at the thought. _I won't have an office anymore; it will just be papers. _

Anna frowned at him. "No she won't. The ministers can do it. I don't mean to be mean, but they did it for three years after… after Mom and Dad died." She finished quietly, effectively dampening the mood. Anna didn't let it stay that way though. "Besides, it's not like we'll be gone for a year, just a month or two, then we'll be back. And plus we still have a few months before we actually leave, so that's plenty of time!"

Kristoff gave her a strange look. "How long have you been planning this?" He asked.

"Ever since I found out about it." Anna said innocently.

Elsa and Kristoff exchanged a look. "I have a feeling we're being played." Elsa said.

Kristoff nodded sagely. "Yes, she seems to have planned this too well for it to be Anna." Anna gave a loud _'hey!'_ at that, but it was ignored.

"She does seem to be having some diabolical plots, more so than normal lately." Elsa said, continuing on with the unspoken game.

"Has she become some sort of puppeteer mastermind without us knowing?" Kristoff added.

"She has to. How else would she have managed to set up that trap in my office?" Elsa paused and then frowned in curiosity. "By the way, how did you manage that anyway?" She asked seriously.

Anna huffed and crossed her arms. "I'm not telling." She said defiantly.

Elsa's face grew into a grin. A predatory grin. "Well, I have ways of making you talk." She said ominously. Kristoff scooted backward in his chair, fearing what was going to happen.

"I'd like to see you try." Anna challenged.

"Very well." Elsa said, then suddenly pulled out a pillow from behind her and screamed "Revenge Pillow Attack!" She charged forward and Kristoff fell over backwards in his chair in an attempt to get away from the upcoming war.

Anna attempted to escape, but failed as she got a face full of pillow as Elsa swung. A few feathers poofed out of it from the impact and Anna let out a squeal and ran away, trying to avoid her now crazy pillow-wielding sister who was chasing her around.

The two ran out of the dining hall deeper into the castle, leaving behind a few overturned plates and several feathers. Also a collapsed Kristoff on the floor.

After the two sisters ran out, he groaned and decided that he just wanted to lie there on the ground. "How did I get here?" He asked rhetorically; not about how he got on the floor, but how he got involved with the queen and princess and become part of their daily lives. Also their craziness.

"Umm, I think you fell over." A young sounding voice came from somewhere (above?) Kristoff. He looked up, from his angle anyway, and saw Olaf, the walking talking _alive_ snowman wander into the dining hall.

"Hey Olaf," he said as a greeting, "and I know I fell over, I was just- oh never mind." He said, not wanting to confuse the easily confused snowman. He rolled over and picked himself and the chair off of the ground and put them back upright.

"Okay!" Olaf said, already never minding. "So where did Elsa and Anna go?" He asked.

There was a loud screech from one of the two sisters and a solid _thwack_ sound from somewhere inside the castle, then the sound of feet running. "I think they are using up all the pillows in the castle." He deadpanned.

Olaf looked towards the sound and then asked, "You think they need help?"

There was another _thwack._ "No, I think they've got it." He sighed. "It's going to be another long day."

* * *

Two hours later and countless ruined pillows later they finally started to make actual plans for their trip. Or tried to. They kept running into obstacles.

"Absolutely not!"

"For once I agree with you, absolutely not."

"What do you mean 'for once?' You did yesterday _and_ today!"

"I was under a lot of stress."

"So?"

Elsa opened her mouth, and then closed it like a fish. She ignored Anna and turned to Kristoff instead. "I still say no."

"So do I." Anna added, forgetting the brief argument.

Kristoff sighed, his earlier prediction coming true. He was forced to play Devil's Advocate for this part, but he knew someone had to. "Look, it's the only way. Unless you want to spend a month traveling overland? I'm sure that would be fun." He said sarcastically.

"I don't care. We are _not_ going to go on a ship." Elsa said firmly.

Kristoff held up his hands in defense. "I totally understand and I don't want to press the issue. But how else do you propose we get to Paris on time without leaving earlier than necessary?" He asked, silently holding his breath.

Anna looked like she was about to argue but stopped, thinking. Elsa had a somber contemplative look on her face. Kristoff hated himself at that moment. He knew the late King and Queen, Anna and Elsa's parents, died out at sea traveling to Corona during a storm six years ago. It was little wonder why the two sisters didn't want to travel by sea to another country.

Anna and Elsa looked at each other. "What do you think Elsa?" Anna said hesitantly.

Elsa shook her head. "I don't like it, but it _is_ the fastest way to get there." She closed her eyes thinking, then said, "Let's plan for either way; we still have time to think it over."

Kristoff nodded, "Alright." He scribbled something down on the piece of paper they had then set it aside. Somehow, making the travel itinerary had fallen to him, which he found highly strange. After all, he is the one that spent most of his life living in the mountains with trolls. He's never been to another country before. Maybe on a blue moon he managed to get into Sweden, but that hardly counted because he was still in the mountains.

Of course, neither of the sisters have been to another country either. In fact, out of the three, Kristoff is the most traveled of them. Somehow that got him the job.

"So we arrive in France, and I suppose we'll take a train or two to get to Paris." He said.

"Yes, and then we will find some sort of place to crash-" Anna started.

"Stay." Elsa corrected.

"To stay and wait for gala night. Then we could explore Paris a bit before coming back home. What do you think?" Anna asked.

"Well, it's a start." Kristoff said. "Besides, the show you want to see is at the beginning of November. We could stay for a month and a half and still be back for the Christmas and New Year celebrations here."

"Which I also need to plan out before we leave so they can get going as soon as we get back." Elsa said. "If we go with this plan, then we'll have a short window of opportunity to get everything in order."

"Hey we'll manage!" Anna said, "We always do! Remember the time when-"

"Yes yes, don't remind me." Elsa cut her off right then, knowing what Anna was about to say. Another one of those _'must never be mentioned again' _moments. Suffice it to say, a couple of important visitors arrived unannounced in Arendelle. It was a very stressful time for the entire city.

"So I think that this is what we're planning to do?" Elsa questioned the two.

"Sure!" Anna said. Kristoff just shrugged, indifferent.

"Very well then. We can discuss this more at a later date." Elsa stood up and then said, "So who wants to go ice skating?"

"Ooh ooh! I do! Let's go! I'll find Olaf!" Anna said as she ran off, almost tripping over herself and the chair as she stood up and ran out.

Kristoff sighed and said, "I'll make sure she doesn't destroy the castle." He followed the redhead out, leaving Elsa alone at the table.

Elsa smirked, thinking to herself. _It's definitely going to be something different, going to Paris. New faces, new places, new, well, everything. I wonder what it'll be like there._

Elsa started to walk out, but a sudden thought stopped her. _Wait. France. Paris. That means French. _

_ Does Anna know how to speak French?_

* * *

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**Sorry for the lack of Phantom in this chapter. However the next one will be all about him next time!**

**Until then, R.R.F.F.**

**-OrangeGalen**


	3. Populaire Preparations

**Have you missed me, good readers? Did you think that I would not update this at all? Well to be honest, I got sidetracked with all my other stories, plus college rolled along again and that threw everything off even more. So here I am finally! Hopefully updates will be a little more common now than before. **

**On another plus side, one of my favorite T.V shows, Once Upon A Time started up again tonight and it's a crossover writer's dream come true. Frozen is now on this show! *Fan squeal that would never be heard out loud* Love it!**

**Anyway, to the story!**

* * *

Rejected titles: Building Up

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

* * *

Paris: August 1875

The Phantom awoke for the first time in a long time feeling not quite like absolute garbage. He slowly sat himself up in his bed, which he had found after his meal and looked around. The candles were all but burnt out, now just flickering embers barely above the melted wax. It was dark, but that didn't matter to the Phantom. His hangover was practically gone and he could think much clearer now, and he felt slightly refreshed from his sleep. However he knew that he had had a nightmare, or a memory would be more accurate, that night as his body was covered in damp sweat and his skin was clammy. It was as if his treacherous body decided to have a nightmare without him knowing about it.

He worked himself off the bed. While he felt rested, his body was still weak from months of malnourishment and alcohol consumption combined with a lack of exercise. However, the last few months for the Phantom were a blur, which he supposed he was grateful for because he didn't remember any specifics of days or even weeks.

Time is a funny thing underground. Days and weeks could pass without you noticing, or they could stretch on forever. Without the natural light of the sun to track time with, one could loose all sense of time, only knowing the natural cycle of your body as some sort of pace keeper. And if your body got messed up somehow, such as if you haven't eaten in a day, or haven't slept in a while, then it'll throw off everything.

The thing was is that the Phantom didn't mind all that much. Having spent all his life living in a cage or down in caves it made little difference how much time had passed. Nor did he care.

_Time makes me forget,_ he thought as he sat at his organ after eating a little bit of the bread. He planned to ration out the food a bit so it would last until he got his strength back to start getting food from the storage in the opera house. He didn't want to rely on any more charity, especially from Madame Giry.

_It makes me forget the pain of the past. I don't want to feel it anymore. It hurts too much to remember. Block it out and don't feel. That's the only way to survive in this world. _He glanced down at the organ he was sitting at. It was covered in a not so fine layer of dust, evidence of him not touching it for years.

When _She_ left, he waited for the ruckus to die down a bit before returning to his lair. Nothing had been touched, as it seemed that the people were still too scared of the Opera Ghost to risk angering him by damaging his things. The Phantom cleaned up the glass from the mirrors he smashed and made sure everything was still where it was. And now all of that was covered in dust.

After he came back, he tried to lose himself in his music again. But as soon as he played the first line of a piece, he broke down, imagining _her_ voice singing along with his playing. Imagining her. After then, he couldn't play any of his instruments. Organ, violin, flute, none of them could heal his heart. In fact it made it worse. And singing was the worst because it reminded him of what could have been. It was so bad that he became sick two weeks after the fire. For a week he was fighting a fever and shivers. All the while he couldn't sleep because he kept seeing _her_ face and hearing _her_ voice in his mind. He recovered, but most of his strength had been lost since the sickness.

So now he sat in the same organ seat that he last sat at four years ago. Dust had not spared the once magnificent instrument and now made it look a dull grey with hints of gold underneath. There was a fine layer of grime as well, giving the ivory keys a green look.

The Phantom sat blankly staring at the organ, his mind going down memory lane. Unbidden, memories of him singing to her when he first brought her down here came to his forethoughts.

_~"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses…"~ _

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, his brow furrowed. _Indeed it did. When confronted with her dress and mannequin, she fainted and I needed to carry_ _her to bed. Oh, I do not doubt that both our imaginations were awakened that night. For me, it was a chance to finally live outside of this hell that has been my life. But for her, it was too much. She couldn't handle it._

_~"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me-"~_

"No." Just one word destroyed the image. But another one rose to take its place.

_~"Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon, is this what you wanted to see?"~ _

_Everything that I had worked for, destroyed in one reckless moment, one impulse she had. And just like that, it was destroyed. She saw my face, and she could never see me the same way again. Never. _

_~"Raoul I've seen him; can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face so distorted, deformed it was hardly a face in that darkness. Darkness…"~_

_ Even then she wanted to escape from me. And I kept chasing her, unknowingly driving her away, even while she stood in front of me. _

_~"The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've past the point of no return…"~ _

_ No, don't think. Don't think. Don't remember anymore. Forget. Spare me the pain. _

The Phantom bowed his head and looked at the keys in front of him. He stared at them for longer than he cared to count before he shifted. Slowly he raised a hand and held it above the Bb key. _Do I dare try to play again? Do I dare try and resurrect the ghosts? _

Slowly his finger descended and hit the key. An ungodly sound tore through the chamber and forced the Phantom to lift his finger off hastily. He winced as the sound faded away, hoping nobody heard it for two reasons. _I hope no one heard that. I don't want anybody snooping around here. Plus that sound was just horrendous._ He stood up and went around to the side of the organ, and then to the other, examining what happened after all this time.

_After all these years of non-use I expected it to work just like before. I am a fool loosing his touch. I should have been maintaining my instruments like a musician._ He looked around his home as if seeing it for the first time.

_What is this place? Is this really what has become of my abode? Dust, and forgotten memories? Well the memories can go to hell for all I care, but everything else?_ He trailed off as he surveyed everything. There was still glass on the floor from when he smashed the mirrors, and several of the candelabras were knocked over haphazardly. Sheets of paper, some containing music, were scattered throughout the lair. And dust covered it all.

The Phantom looked down and traced a gloved finger on the wood of the organ, leaving behind a trail. _Is this what has become of me? Dust and echoes? A story forgotten? Is it for the best that I cease to exist? What is my life compared to others? I'm unimportant, a gargoyle born into this world, one that should never have existed. Why should I even bother?_

While he was thinking, he was making patterns into the dust unconsciously. By the time he realized what he was doing, it had developed into a full-blown dust drawing. He looked down and saw what his hand had been doing. He had drawn a full music measure, all five bars and the treble sign and had started with some notes before he stopped.

_Even while I'm not trying, I still feel music. Why? She took it away from me when she left. How could I still think about music?_

He sat down again at the chair and thought about his new conundrum. After a while the candles started to burn lower and the Phantom rose to replace them. As he went over to a drawer to get more out, he came across a page that had the title _The Phantom of the Opera _with music underneath.

Suddenly he had an answer. _It's who I am. I am the Phantom of the Opera. I am the owner of the Opera Populaire. I am a genius musician and magician. My heart beats music whether I want it to or not. I am the Phantom. _

He looked around once again, seeing things in a new light once more. _I've let this place run down to ruin haven't I?_ He thought to himself. He turned back to the organ and took in how bad it looked. _Now I know what Antoinette was talking about when she came down here yesterday._

Another remembrance came to him. _"The new opera season is starting up soon, in a few weeks. Normally I wouldn't recommend someone in your state to oversee them, but seeing that you are you, I'm betting you'll be your old self in that time."_

_Why did she want me to oversee the opera? All I've done is cause problems when things weren't going my way. _

_No… _he thought it through. _She knows what I can do, what I can achieve through music. She knew how much it means to me. That's why she's offering that to me. My last redeeming virtue. To gift the world with my music. But I have no music to write anymore. Inspiration has fled me forever and I doubt that I could ever write again._

_ That doesn't mean I can't help great music be performed. _

He stood there for a moment before moving deeper into the cavern. Going through a curtain, he opened a cabinet and pulled out several rags and cleaning solutions. He moved out into the main area and put the items on a table_. Antoinette is right; I'm not ready to get out into the opera house again yet. But there are things I can do here first before then. A little housecleaning would suffice until I'm ready for bigger things, until I rebuild my strength to move about. _

The Phantom moved to the closest paper on the floor and picked it up. It was part of another piece that he had written previously, but the first couple of pages weren't nearby. Sighing to himself, the Phantom moved about, picking up the paper not caring for the order of them, for that could be straightened out on a later date. Once he had an armful, he put the pile on the table and went to collect another. When he finished, he had about four piles of paper and parchment on the table, all disorganized which pained the Phantom slightly. But if it were the past, it would have been unbearable for him to see music like that. Now, it was just a mild pang.

Once the papers had been cleared away, he moved to repair the candelabras that were crashed over and replaced the candles in all of them. Soon, the dark gloom of the lair was lit almost as brightly as when…

_Don't finish that thought. Forget,_ The Phantom commanded himself. He went to a closet and pulled out a broom and started sweeping. There were several pauses in his work as he waited for the cloud of dust to settle back down and his coughing fits to subside. Eventually, even the glass was gathered up with the dust and the floor was now dust free.

The Phantom got a bin and brushed all the stuff into it, finishing his floor cleaning. He then realized how tired he was. _My body isn't ready for hard work yet,_ he realized. _I have to work back into it._ Dusting himself off, he went to his personal room. But before he got there, he made a detour to the kitchen. He took another slice of bread and ate it, then rummaged through the cabinets and took out all the liquor and set it on the table there. He gave the variously shaped bottles a hard look before deciding. He put the red and white wine back, the one bottle of champaign and one of the whiskeys. Then he took the remaining, which amounted to about five bottles of the harder stuff and with one last look, poured them down the sink.

Never going to drink like that again, he vowed. His business done, he tossed the now empty bottles and continued back to his room. Once there he took off his shirt and went to his own bed and slowly drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Over the next few days the Phantom would fall into sort of a routine. He would wake up usually covered in sweat from both his nightmares and getting over his liquor abstinence. He would then change and get something to eat from the supplies Giry brought down. Once he finished, he would start cleaning and repairing things in his abode. He swept multiple times to make sure everything was gone and got the dust off of the furniture and instruments. He would go through several rags a day and needed to make more cleaning solution multiple times from running out.

After he got tired of cleaning, he would work on the instruments he had. The organ was the most visibly worse of everything there. He made it so that when he was pressing the keys the organ wouldn't make a sound, allowing him to clean off the keys in relative silence, save for the various noises he made. He then spent the rest of the third day cleaning out the organ, inside and out and once he finished proceeded to Voice it.

As one could imagine, several years of inactivity would make any instrument sound horrendous. The Phantom's organ, no matter the quality, was no exception. It was severely out of tune and the Phantom spent many hours getting the beats to be non-existent. Eventually he was satisfied and finished up the day.

The next he went to work on the other instruments, namely his violin. All the strings needed to be redone and tuned again, and the bowstring also needed to be replaced. He checked it over and cleaned it up and then proceeded to play and tune it. Nothing major came out of it, nothing that made the music magical. At that point in time, it was just notes and scales being played. While he played them excellently for having not touched it for so long, there was no feeling in his playing. In fact he kept muttering to himself to "not remember," and to "not feel." The Phantom then finished and repaired his flute, clarinet, and cello in much the same way.

But at least he got them working again.

After he finished most of the cleaning, he went about organizing his music and doing basic exercises to regain his muscle strength. He had a room specifically designed so he could practice getting around the opera house easily and he had left it alone for quite a while, when he was at his pinnacle of greatness. Now it served to help his body get back the muscles he lost. He started slowly, only doing small amounts of exercises, but gradually worked his close to normal. Push-ups, pull-ups and crunches, the lot of it. He also had some specialized equipment for climbing up ropes and other various things that would be present in the opera house. He even started doing his swordplay and fencing sets again, just so he could get back in the habit again.

With his music, while he didn't write or play it again, he was diligent to sort it out. He had forgotten how many pieces he had written over his long years down in the depths and it was many. Once again, music was spread out on the floor, but this time in separate piles to organize it. Page by antagonizing page, he went through them all and gathered them up by opera or song. It was slow going but progress was being made.

By the end of the week, the Phantom had partially started to fit his clothes again, getting some more definition in his figure, both from the food and from exercise. He was still weak considering and his food had started to run out.

_I can't stay here much longer rationing out the food, that's partially what got me into this situation in the first place. I need to keep eating to get my body strength back. I have only one option: I need to go up there and get food. _His decision made, he gathered everything that he would need and started his trek upwards.

He took the path that would lead him close to the kitchens. While it had been a long time since he had gone this way, he still remembered each path his tunnels made and where they came out. Making the correct turns, he found himself at the beginning of another tunnel. However this one was shorter and led to a wooden wall. But that wall wasn't as solid as it seemed.

The Phantom put down his bag he brought and pressed his ear against the wall, listening for any sounds. He had admittedly lost track of time and needed to make sure he wasn't coming out in the middle of a meal or rehearsal, otherwise he could be spotted easily.

Hearing nothing, he pressed a certain spot, causing the wall to slide over quite noiselessly. The Phantom was surprised at how well it worked, considering that he hadn't oiled the wheels in a long time. Thanking his luck for the moment, he pushed the wall open the rest of the way.

He found himself in an empty kitchen, once again thanking his luck. Grabbing his bag, he went out, trying to make as little noise as possible. He wasn't as silent as he used to be and now could hear his footsteps, but that was something he could work on in the future. He went around the cabinets, grabbing a little bit of everything, not taking too much otherwise somebody would notice it and that would lead to unanswered questions and suspicions. He slowly filled his bag with various foods and some spices. Having a sizable bag, he went back over to the wall and entered again, leaving the kitchen visibly untouched.

The Phantom made good time back to his home and unloaded his bag into the various cabinets, leaving out some of it to make a meal. As he finished, he thought back on today. He felt… satisfied. It was a strange feeling, one that he hadn't felt in years. He realized that it was because he started feeling like the Phantom again. Sneaking around, stealing from the opera house, and basically causing mischief again. For the first time in years, he was acting like himself.

That realization made him smile under his mask.

* * *

As the next week rolled along, the Phantom became stronger and more like himself. He had gone back to the kitchen once more and it seemed that his previous escapade had gone unnoticed and that allowed him to continue to get his food there. He had also continued his exercises as well and now was almost back to his full strength.

But today he would do something different. He would actually overlook the upcoming opera finally. He took a few things with him that he might need: a knife, rope, parchment, and, just in case, the special liquid that would make someone's voice croak, like what he did to Carlotta in _Il Muto_. It never hurts to be prepared, he thought as he crept into the bowls of the opera house.

Unknown to many, the opera house was filled with passageways hidden in the walls and fake hallways. Trapdoors and false walls littered the place making it hazardous for people to get lost in at times, but only if they are truly uncoordinated. Most of the time trapdoors would open and immediately be closed due to the mechanisms being triggered improperly to prevent anybody from falling in, or unwanted guests. Not all of these ploys were designed by the Phantom, but he adapted all of them to suit his needs.

However, since the fire, there were a few of those that were torn down because of structural damage so the Phantom needed to make a detour to get where he wanted, which was his box. Box five.

As he grew closer, he could hear the sounds of rehearsals taking place onstage. Hearing the music made him go a little bit faster so he could see and hear better. Eventually he came to a small ladder inside a wall, which led directly to his box. He started climbing and eventually reached the point where he could enter. He checked to make sure there was no one in there, but he had no need to worry; the fear of infringing on the Phantom's box was still great. The last person to enter was only sent there to clean it, and they did it hurriedly. But it was clean at least.

The Phantom crept out and took a seat perched on the edge of the shadows, just enough so that he could see everything, but nobody could see him. And he took in everything. The ballet corps was onstage and Madame Giry was once again in charge. Seeing her sculpt the ballerinas brought a small smile on his lips, especially when she smacked her cane down to get their attention and seeing their small jumps.

"No, no, no, Natalie get to your position and keep your hands extended, not loose like a lame duck. And Minnie, keep that smirk to yourself, you were late on that last twirl. Again!" Madame Giry's voice rang out through the rafters.

Above them, there were a few stagehands coordinating the moving of props, and of course there were a few admiring the view of the girls below them. The Phantom narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of a dirty blond man that he could tell reeked of alcohol, practically drooling over the sight of the ballerinas before he got dragged back to work. The Phantom shook his head in disgust. _Pathetic._

As rehearsals went along, eventually the orchestra came into the pit. The Phantom got a small surprise when he saw Monsieur Reyer still as the conductor. _Heaven knows why he's still around after all that happened here. I suppose the manager hired him because of his affinity with the Populaire. _He blanked on the name of the manager. Someone else I'll have to get to know later.

That later came sooner than he expected. The day was almost over and they were preparing for a last rehearsal when the manager came in. He was a middle-aged man with brown hair and a straight posture. He had a slight goatee and he walked with a purpose, dressed in moderately upmarket clothes that gave a statement.

The Phantom immediately picked him out and waited to see what would happen. Silently he was judging the new manager to see how he compared to the others, and whether he needed to be motivated to do his job like those last two fops.

"Ah, Monsieur Barrett, now we can begin." Reyer said.

"Yes, let's see what this looks like now." Barrett said, leaning forward analyzing the stage and the people on it. Immediately he was bumped up further on the Phantom's scale just by showing an interest in what was going on. _Already better than the last two. _

The music started up in a classical piece that gradually sped up in subtle movements. The Phantom noticed that some of the ballerinas were having trouble adjusting to the tempo changes. Before they continued on much longer, Barrett called for a halt and stepped forward to the stage.

"That was good until measure 52. Do you know what happens there?" He asked the ballerinas.

It was silent until a voice said, "That's when the beat speeds up." Both the Phantom and the manager looked and saw the one that spoke. It was Meg Giry, the daughter of Madame Giry.

"Exactly." Barrett said. "If you miss the change, then the entire thing is ruined because you'll spend the rest of it trying to catch up. Be quick about it and pay attention. You'll hear a slight dynamic change before that happens, so keep your ears open." He turned to Monsieur Reyer. "Once more, start at the phrase before the change."

Reyer nodded and the orchestra turned their pages while the ballerinas went to their positions. Barrett went to his seat and said, "Whenever you're ready."

The orchestra started up again and the ballerinas were slightly hesitant before they started, but once again the tempo change was subtle enough for them to get thrown off. "Stop!" Barrett shouted, "Again! You need to know every position. I could call any one I want and I expect you to know it. I'm generous and starting at the beginning of the phrase, but I might not be later once you get it. Again."

This repeated twice more before Barrett seemed satisfied. The rest of the rehearsal went more or less smoothly and at the end Barrett seemed satisfied. "Good work today. Get some rest for tomorrow because it'll be another day of practice." He stood up and made his way out of the auditorium while the rest of the ballerinas broke for the day. Some of them tried to get some moves down while the majority of them went back to their dormitories or to get something to eat.

Antoinette was talking to Meg for a moment before she sent her off and told the rest of the dancers to clear the stage. Once it was, she stood there for a moment before starting to walk off. But she stopped and looked up towards box five. The Phantom narrowed his eyes slightly. _That women will be the end of me eventually, _he thought as he edged himself back into the shadows. He swore he saw the ghost of a smirk on her face before she left.

_Damn woman, she knows I'm back._ He sighed, knowing there was little he could do about it, if anything. Quietly, he exited his box and made his way down to the ground floor. He wove in and out of the shadows along the secret paths through the opera house. Just before he was about to enter the hidden door to one of his tunnels, he heard a small scuffle inside a room.

Curious, he crept up and silently peaked inside, then entered himself, not making any sound. The four occupants of the room didn't notice as three of them were focused on the fourth. The Phantom narrowed his eyes in disgust. Even from the back, he recognized that dirty blond man from before and realized what this was. It was sadly not uncommon for stagehands, especially drunk stagehands, to try and take advantage of a woman. In this case, one of the ballerinas, who had managed to change in the short period of time from rehearsals broke.

"Now, now, don' be goin' making a fuss now mademoiselle. If you'll just giv' us what we want, we'll leave ya alone." The dirty blond said for the three of them.

"Please, just go away." The girl said, her black hair covering part of her face.

"Nah, I don' think so. We're goin' to have a good time together. Why would you skip out on that?"

"Touch me and I'll scream." The girl said, her voice betraying her fear.

"You won't do that, and if you'll do, well, tha's not going to be good."

The Phantom had enough. While he was tempted to kill the man, it was too great a risk. Besides, he wasn't so sure of his strength as he once was and with two other men, they could take him down easily. _No, there is an alternative, _he thought. He noticed that the dirty blond was taking swigs of his flask, which he could smell the whiskey in it. Creeping closer, the Phantom quickly took the flask and opened it, pouring in that special concoction before he put it back.

A few seconds later the blond took a swig and put it down. "Now are we goin' to do th-HURROK!" His voice cracked halfway through his speech in a terrible croak. The three me looked confused for a moment before the blond tried again. "Now are w-EEEECHK!" His voice cracked again and the Phantom behind a stage prop smirked to himself.

"Oy, Murray, what gotten into you?" the man on the right said.

"It's no-OAGHTH-ing." He growled as it happened again. "Alright, wh-AAAATHS-?" He cut himself off and the two men were trying hard not to laugh. "St-OOOp-! C-UUUt! God Da-AAAHM!" By then the two men were in hysterics at Murray trying to talk. Murray growled and said, "C-UUOOM on. Let's go." He literally dragged the two men behind him as they couldn't stop laughing, leaving behind a really confused ballerina and an amused Phantom.

Seeing that his work was done, he silently went out of the room and went to his original door. He came back to his lair and as he stood there, he gave a bark of laughter. _And I thought Carlotta's reaction was hilarious._ He chuckled to himself before taking off his cape and hung it up on a rack, then proceeded to undress himself for sleep. _Today was a good day,_ he concluded as his mind drifted off into sleep.

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**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

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**Thank you for being patient with me. College is a real pain if you want to get things done. **

**Enough of that. Next time, we'll get back to Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff and their story of getting to Paris. **

**As always, Read, Review, Favorite, Follow. (R.R.F.F)**

**I remain your humble writer, **

**-OG.**


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